Music Sheet
by pinkpuruu
Summary: Introspective (sort of) piece in which Eriol is obsessed with a song and just can't get it out of his head. (ExT)


DISCLAIMER: I don't own CCS nor any of the characters **in** CCS, no matter how much I enjoy manipulating them to amuse myself. Nyah.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Whoa... I came out with this one fast. Pretty amused at how fast inspiration strikes me. As for this story... I like Eriol and Tomoyo's connection through music. It's shiny.

**Music Sheet**

He found the song when he was rummaging through his Government notes one day. Hardly legible to anyone's eyes but his, they danced across the lines of his paper, singing to him a song of brilliant emotion. 

He hadn't really remembered writing it. He remembered being utterly and inescapably bored during the lecture (seeing as that the rest of the page of notes consisted of light sketches, short drabbles, and random shouts of "DIE, DEMOCRACY", it was safe to assume that he was _really_ aching for something interesting), but he was surprised that he actually found inspiration in his Governments class for a song. 

He stared at it for a long while in a silent reverie, watching the tune play in his head, seeing the soft piano keys being played, listening to the sound of _her_ voice humming gently, and watching _her_ lips lightly touch the notes in her sweet soprano. It was only when he heard a crash from the kitchen (undoubtedly Nakuru tackling Spinel Sun to the ground with a large pot coated in honey and sugar) that he awoke from his trance. He rushed immediately to the scene (in which Spinel Sun ensued bouncing off the walls in a dizzy panic, tra-la-laing at the top of his lungs), but not before he off-handedly placed the sheet of music on the bench of his grand piano.

There it sat, unattended for days, until he returned to it with a sheet of clean music paper and a brand new black ink pen. It was a Sunday, and Nakuru made sure to whine audibly, at the top of their lungs over his playing, about her sheer boredom and didn't he want to play tag or capture the Suppi with her (in which Spinel Sun made painstaking care to lock the door to the music room as so he would not suddenly decide to agree to her demands). 

It was nine at night when he finished perfecting it. It was one at night when he finished perfecting his perfection. By three, he felt absolutely confident in the piece, and laid the single page of music onto the piano and played with flourish. At four, Nakuru burst into the music room, threw her pillow at her surrogate father, and stormed out the room, muttering angrily over hearing the same song for the last hour and having to go to school early tomorrow to catch Touya before he ran away from her again. Finally at five, he decided to get dressed and ready for school. He left the house with barely a word. 

After putting on his shoes and scribbling some nonsense onto a piece of paper to substitute as his homework for the day, he rushed out of the locker room and fled to the Music Room, unlocking it, and fleeing to the piano. His backpack crashed heedlessly into rack of clarinets. His tie flew to the xylophone. His jacket draped over the drum set. His hands alighted on the keys and his eyes closed to the beautiful harmony. 

The sheet of music, rumpled and worn with streaks of ink on the side, was barely a page long, yet he found it irresistible. The bars of notes brought more pleasure to him than most things and even he was blown away by the sheer force of its power over him. And he knew why it did, no matter how much he denied it. 

As the music lifted, he could see her in his mind as clearly as if she were next to him. Black tresses that wove their way down her pale, white shoulder. The soft curves of her face that he had memorized with immense care. The spark of mischievousness in her lavender eyes. The reddened lips that were always curved into a smile. Every note depicted her in his mind, and he couldn't help but feel lightheaded. Dreamy.

He didn't hear the door slide open or feel the person that sat next to him on the bench. Completely lost, he didn't realize until she began to sing. Lifting, high, perfect, hitting every note with perfect clarity that ached his heart. Happy, heartfelt, emotional, pleasant, hopeful. But he didn't stop. Oh no, his fingers were completely out of his control, the signals of his brain getting pushed away in the sea of music. 

His fingers curved gently over the keys until they trilled down the keyboard, reaching its jarring ending. The sudden halt. He half expected the soprano to stop there, too low for her range, when to his surprise, she followed him down, not letting go, not slowing. 

His pace slowed, until the cadence arrived, ending the song with in a bittersweet note, ringing loudly, lonely, in the silence. The voice hit the note with accuracy.

His eyes fluttered open, and he dared to look to his side. She turned to him and gave him a curious smile.

"Hiiragizawa-kun," she said, in her polite way. Always polite. "What are you doing here so early?"

"I could ask the same for you," he responded. He licked his lips nervously. "Tomoyo-san."

A brief flicker, the immediate mask. "I found it difficult to sleep," she responded. "I see that somebody has the same problem." She gave a small smile, looking at his reddened eyes and tussled hair. She didn't comment on the haphazardness of his appearance or the clothing thrown all around the room, but found it hard to conceal her amusement. He saw her forcing her gaze upon the sheet of music on top of the piano. 

"May I ask what you are playing?"

He hesitated. Then, in his composed way, he reached out for the sheet of paper and folded it carefully. "Just a song I wrote."

"It's beautiful," she breathed. 

"The song barely does your voice any justice," he said, tucking the paper away into his pants pocket. "Once again, your voice astounds me, Tomoyo-san."

She brushed the comment lightly away, and instead peered at him inquisitively. "What is the name of the song?"

The question hung in the air, unanswered for a moment. He sat in thoughtful consideration, falling into an artist's hypnosis, running the inquisition through his head. He fingered the piece of paper in his pocket for _some_ sort of inspiration, still a bit uncertain. He gave a quick glance in the corner of his eye to the girl sitting next to him, who waited patiently for his response. She caught his look, and bent to catch his attention. Sensing his hesitance, she shrugged and said, "Well, it's a beautiful song nonetheless—"

"'Captivation'," he said suddenly, as if something had just hit him. "'Captivation'." The sound of his voice softened, along with his look, and he turned to her. 

They sat in total silence, staring at each other. One with a look of surprise, the other with a look of hope. 


End file.
